Patty Melt

July in Arizona is the best time to do outdoor construction projects.  I'm serious.  You sweat off extra water weight -- your vitamin D levels shoot through the roof -- your life flashes in those fantastic moments when you go blind on the ladder with your drill bit half crammed into the main beam because the sweat pouring down your forehead just dumped a load of 150 proof sunblock into your eyes.  It is so magical.

I speak from experience, because we spent July 2011 building a new back patio covering.

I don't have a 'before' picture with the old rotting covering because I ripped it down in a tornado of terror back in 2007.  You will have to settle for this bare covering snap from one of our luxurious backyard BBQs. This must have been when I ran inside quick to grab another bottle of Cristal and more foie grais.

There is still a small scar on my right arm from that tornado of terror incident when I was assaulted by a beam of rusty nails.

I blame Anthony.

He should know that when I said "Our patio covering is starting to fall apart on its own.  Can we just tear it down and start planning a new one?" that I really meant "Listen. I'm home today and I really want to tear this bitch down. We've got ladders, various sizes of hammers and multiple tools that you can plug in to make sharp things spin. Mama wants to tear shit up."

90% was down by the time he got home from work, including the beam that tried to drag my with it on its death plummet.  And yes, my tetanus shot was up to date.

That's right.  Anthony said that I could start using his first name in the blog.  But, let's be real, you already knew his name was Anthony.  Because what other name would fit the person that texts you about how he is going to shit in a coworkers garbage can?  

Sean? No way.

Brandon? Nope.

Keith? Well, Keith might. But, it wouldn't be because all the stalls were full.

Did you do the math on this timeline? Patio covering came down in 2007 and the new one went up in 2011. Here's what you missed in between:

2007: Heidi fills out the building permit forms, puts on a V-neck shirt and a short skirt and heads downtown Phoenix to the city building.  Her droopies, pasty legs and cellulite have never sealed a deal before, but she is convinced that this time will be the first.  She returns home with a 'denied' stamp and shattered dreams.

2008-2009: Anthony works feverishly on Google Sketch Up to plan out all the patio details down to the very size of screw to use.

2010: Anthony and Heidi head back to City Hall with new and improved forms for a building permit.  Heidi wears her black Columbia fuzzy jacket and black work out pants without showering that morning.  During the process the city employee dismisses himself to go speak with "the chief engineer in back" three times.  Heidi and Anthony assume that there is a throne in the other room for said engineer with at least five maidens rubbing his feet and lifting the Dr. Pepper bottle with a straw to his lips.  They know they are right. Plans approved.  Oh, and the maidens bring him a bucket to poop in so he doesn't have to leave the throne.

2011: Details worked out with the lumber yard for supply order.  Anthony wants to delay one week because there is a high chance for monsoon rain and he doesn't want the wood damaged.  Heidi bursts into tears slobbering something about this one week is going to turn into another four years without a finished patio covering.  She continues her irrational breakdown for somewhere between ten minutes and an hour.  It is ugly.  

Wood arrives two weeks later.  Heidi apologizes again.

Catch up complete.  I may have left out of few Heidi meltdowns from 2009-2010 just for the sake of brevity.

Anthony printed off and attached the labels. Again, you already knew that.  Like emergency trash can dumpers, the name Anthony is also synonymous with meticulous wood organization.

I applied Thompson's Water Seal to every piece of wood. Every side.

Gluing and clamping started just days later.

"Maybe you should stop and remeasure that again so that we can make sure it is perfect" is something that I never said during the building process.

You can watch it construct itself in the video below.  It is from the vantage point of the lawn chair that I sat in the whole time while I watched.

Don't give me that.  It is midweek right now.  How else were you going to spend that 1 minute and 41 seconds?

Phew.  Now the door is open for me to start sharing about the weed growth in the backyard.  Thank God I don't need to consult 'the chief engineer in back' about those.